


Cottage Hearthfires

by plumeria47



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Gen, M/M, Midwinter, Prior Vanyel/Tylendel, Vanyel needs a hug, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeria47/pseuds/plumeria47
Summary: On the eve of Haven's Midwinter festival, Vanyel is brooding and lonely.  Again.  His loved ones help distract and cheer him.
Relationships: Vanyel Ashkevron & Other(s), Vanyel Ashkevron/Tylendel Frelennye
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Cottage Hearthfires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlingacrosstheuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingacrosstheuniverse/gifts).



> [fangirlingacrosstheuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingacrosstheuniverse/pseuds/fangirlingacrosstheuniverse), I hope this was the right mix of "domestic fluffiness" you requested. :-D Happy Yuletide!

The snow came down in a heavy cascade of white flakes, driving most Palace inhabitants indoors, to sit by hot comforting fires and sip hot comforting beverages, or prepare for the upcoming Midwinter festival. Yet Vanyel stood in the chilly stable doorway, his cloak wrapped around him, and stared out at the thickly falling snow.

 _:Everything all right, Chosen?:_ Yfandes had exited her stall, coming up to hook her head over his shoulder, her breath warm against his cheek.

 _:’Lendl told me he loved snow. He was always going on about how he couldn’t wait for winter, so he could take me sledding, build snow forts … but by the time winter rolled around…:_ He took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning back into his Companion’s reassuring warmth. _:Why do I still miss him so much, ‘Fandes? It’s been_ years _:_

 _:He was your Lifebonded,:_ Yfandes said simply. _:That loss is bound to leave permanent scars on your heart.:_

 _:Have you ever been in love?:_ Vanyel knew it was an intensely personal question but he’d suddenly realized he had no idea. He wasn’t aware of any significant relationships, but he knew she didn’t tell him everything.

 _:Once.:_ When Vanyel turned to look at the blue eye closest to him, she went on, _:It was several years before I Chose you. She was very sweet, and very wise.:_

He blinked. _:She?:_

 _:Humans are not the only ones who sometimes desire their own sex, Vanyel,:_ Yfandes gently admonished him, and Vanyel remembered that Moonstone had told him much the same thing, long ago. _:Caefen and I spent as much time as possible together even though she had a Chosen already.:_ Yfandes paused. _:I took it very badly when she died.:_

Vanyel sucked in a breath. If her pain had been even a tenth of his, he could only imagine what she’d endured. _:What happened?:_ he asked her.

_:Mission went badly. From what everyone was able to cobble together afterwards, there had been some bad intel, fed to them by double agents. Caefen and her Herald Joss both died when they unwittingly walked straight into a trap.:_

He reached an arm up and back, placing his palm on the side of her face. _:I’m sorry.:_

 _:Thank you, Chosen, but it was a long time ago. I still miss Caefen, but I have many other people in my life that bring me joy.:_ She took a few strands of his hair in her teeth and tugged. _:Including you.:_

Vanyel’s mouth tugged up at the corners in response to her playful gesture, but he still could not help the heaviness that weighed on his spirit. “Thanks, ‘Fandes,” he said out loud. 

She tucked her head against his shoulder again. _:Will you be all right? We’ve been traveling so much, fighting so much, always worn down, and now this … I worry about you, you know.:_

He turned, wrapping his arms around her neck in the closest thing to a hug he could manage. It was both comforting and not – she meant the world to him, and her steadfastness and love had literally kept him alive more than once. Yet the embrace only served to remind him of how alone he was, and probably always would be. Yfandes was right – they’d only just returned from yet another an extended mission near the Karse border and would likely be sent right back out again to some other godsforsaken place as soon as Midwinter Festival was over. Vanyel was too busy doing things that were too dangerous to attract or hold anyone’s attention longer than the occasional single night. And it wasn’t like many men were _shay’a’chern_ – or were willing to admit it – in the first place. 

Eventually, however, he straightened up away from her warmth, and drew his heavy cloak more tightly around himself, tugging the hood up over his dark hair. “I’m all right – but I think I’m going to go back up to my room now. I’m not really fit company for much of anybody right now.”

 _:I understand,:_ she replied, and he knew he did. She sent a burst of wordless love along their connection as he stepped out into the driving snow and headed back to the Herald’s wing.

* * * * *

It continued to snow for much of the next day, leaving Vanyel free to brood in silence, but on the third day, Vanyel woke to sunlight streaming through the slats in his shutters; the snow must have stopped sometime during the night. When he cracked them open to take a peek, the world glittered on the fresh blanket that covered everything. He was contemplating whether he could get away with hiding away in his rooms all day when there was a brisk knock at his door. Snatching a blanket off his bed, he wrapped it around his shoulders and stumbled off to answer it.

“Are you really still in bed? At this hour?”

Vanyel blinked at his aunt, bundled up in a worn, comfortable set of winter Whites and looking far too alert for his comfort. “Savil? What are you doing here?”

“Midwinter Festival technically started yesterday, although only all the outdoor activities had to wait until the weather improved,” she said, pushing her way past him and into his room. “The Guard has been shoveling all night to make the roads reasonably clear. So get dressed.”

He gaped at her. “I’m sorry, but what does Midwinter Festival have to do with anything?”

Savil pointed a stern finger in his direction. “I have it on good authority that you have been moping. I’ve been down this road with you before, and I don’t like where it leads. So get dressed – we’re going out.”

“And what if I refuse to go?” It was a mostly empty threat, he knew. Vanyel was the most powerful Herald Mage in the saddle these days, but his aunt was no slouch. He doubted he’d be able to truly refuse if she set her mind to using her considerable talents into uprooting him.

Sure enough, Savil snorted. “I’m pretty sure if I tie you to Yfandes’ saddle, you won’t have any choice in the matter.” She crossed arms. “But you do have the choice as to whether you’re in your nightshirt or not. Do I make myself clear?”

Vanyel sighed, knowing he’d lost. He usually did, when it came to arguments with Savil.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later they were walking out the palace gates into Haven, Savil having foregone her threat to involve Yfandes in the name of declaring the exercise would do him good. She’d also rushed him out the door without any breakfast (“I’m fairly sure you won’t keel over and perish for lack of some toast”). The air was cold and crisp, but there was no breeze and the winter sun took away some of the sting. “When was the last time you were actually in Haven for Midwinter?” Savil asked, as the snow squeaked beneath their boots.

Vanyel frowned, one hand raised to partially shield his eyes from the snow’s reflective glare. “I … actually can’t remember. Maybe the second year after I became a Herald?” That first year they’d been in K’Treva lands, and for most of the intervening years there’d always been some need for him to be on the road, some emergency somewhere. “What about you?”

“I’m here most years,” Savil admitted. “What with teaching. But there have been fewer younglings with mage-gifts being Chosen. Hopefully they won’t send me back on circuit. Kellan and I are too old for that nonsense.”

“Anyone who’s seen you in action would surely disagree,” he teased, chuckling a little. “They’d know you could still beat the pants off of everybody, both with _and_ without magic.”

“Damn straight,” Savil agreed.

The festival market quickly came into view, the narrow streets now covered with makeshift booths and stalls, distant traders and local merchants hawking gifts, special foods and accessories with which even the poorer citizens could use to dress up their homespun outfits. 

“Here we are,” said Savil, after confidently marching down a particular aisle of stalls, stopping at one that fronted the local bakery. She reached into her money pouch and pulled out some coins. “Two of your swirl buns, please.” 

The young man promptly pulled out two steaming pastries from a large earthenware container on his table; the smell of spices and sugar wafted off them making Vanyel’s mouth water. “Naw, milady Herald, you don’t pay, you know that,” said the baker, ignoring Savil’s outstretched hand

“And you know that I insist on paying, Beren,” Savil replied. “Give the money to your two girls if you don’t want it for yourself.”

The baker chuckled. “Very well.” He finally allowed Savil to drop the coins into his palm. “And a good Midwinter to you.”

“And you.” Savil turned and handed Vanyel one of the buns. “Here’s your breakfast. I told you you wouldn’t die from starvation.”

Vanyel shook his head good naturedly. “I assure you I went much longer without decent food – or sometimes any food – on many of my circuits.”

“Well, I think you’ll find this falls well within the realm of ‘decent.’” Savil took a bite from her bun as she began ambling back along the row of stalls.

Vanyel took a bite of his own and thought he might genuinely die a happy man then and there. The bread was warm and buttery, full of melting sugar crystals and the warm sweetness of strange and tantalizing spices. “Oh, gods,” he moaned, after he’d swallowed the first bite. “I see why you made me wait for this.”

“The spices have to be brought from Jkatha,” Savil told him. “Beren’s wife’s family is originally Jkathan; he says these buns are traditional for their Midwinter Festival.”

Vanyel licked a bit of sugar off his fingers. “It’s almost enough to make me move to Jkatha,” he joked.

 _:No thank you. Do you know how hot it gets there in summer?:_

Vanyel chuckled.

“I assume Yfandes has an opinion on the matter?” Savil asked, arching one graying eyebrow.

“She is totally against the idea,” Vanyel admitted with a grin, popping the last of his bun into his mouth. _:Just for that,:_ he told his Companion, _:I won’t be bringing you any of these.:_

 _:If you don’t, you may find I’ve forgotten how to trot comfortably,:_ Yfandes threatened, eliciting another chuckle from Vanyel. His cheeks hurt a little, as if he were no longer used to smiling so much. _Well, that’s probably true,_ he thought ruefully. How much opportunity had he had to smile in the last year? Two years? Three?

Savil next took him to a stand run by the local cider house. The keeper brought them two steaming mugs of hot cider from the large kettle which was hanging over the inn’s fireplace. “We set aside a batch of unfermented cider just for Midwinter,” he explained to Vanyel, who was sniffing his mug appreciatively. “Baker Beren trades me some of his wife’s spices to use for mulling, in exchange for some of the harder stuff that she puts in her pies and cakes.”

That explained the similar aroma and flavors Vanyel was now tasting as he sipped his hot cider. The apples gave the result a wholly different twist, however, and he appreciated how the cider complemented, but didn’t try to copy, the breakfast treat he’d had earlier.

Fed and now warmed by the hot beverage, Vanyel felt considerably more cheerful as he and Savil ambled their way through the holiday market, occasionally stopping to make purchases. Vanyel bought a painted wooden Companion, which could be pulled along on a string, for little Jisa, now that she was old enough – unlike last year – to understand that what was _in_ a package was supposed to be more interesting than the wrapping. Sweets and small trinkets were purchased as token gifts for some of his fellow Heralds and, when Savil was distracted by the sight of one of her old friends, he bought a small container of herb-infused cream he thought she might like for her winter-dry hands. Mentally thanking Herald-Courier Folara, whom Savil had apparently not seen in quite awhile, Vanyel tucked his purchase into one of the inner pockets of his cloak before moving down one more stall to get a new curry brush for Yfandes. His Companion always claimed not to need much, but he knew a good brushdown, reaching all her itches and making her coat even glossier, was something she secretly adored. 

It was early afternoon by the time he and Savil made a final purchase of some warm pocket pies with savory fillings as their midday meal, and walked back to the Palace and Companions’ Field.

“It’s not a breakfast bun, but I think you’ll like this,” said Vanyel a few minutes later, offering Yfandes one of the pies filled with roasted apples and parsnips, rather than the meat and cheese pies he and Savil had devoured on the way back. 

Yfandes took it delicately in her teeth and munched contemplatively for a few minutes. _:Oh, yes, it’s wonderful,:_ she assured him. Then she swallowed, and tipped her head toward him, looking hopeful. _:I don’t suppose you brought any more?:_

Vanyel shook his head. “I’m sorry, that’s all they had.”

His Companion looked momentarily disappointed, then cocked her head toward him, eyeing him suspiciously. _:Then why are you still holding a delicious-smelling bag behind your back?:_ She tried to crane her neck around to see behind him, but Vanyel shifted, turning his body so that she could not.

Vanyel grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I have are the presents I bought my fellow Heralds.” Something suddenly struck him in the small of his back; he stumbled, then turned swiftly to see what had hit him, only to have Yfandes snatch the bag out of his hand, snorting in amusement.

Kellan stood just behind him, a completely unapologetic look in her bright blue eyes.

“Savil, are you going to let them gang up on me like this?” Vanyel called in mock indignation.

“Of course I am!” she replied, from where she stood about ten feet away, clearly having finished giving Kellan her own pies.

 _:Never try to outsmart a Companion,:_ Yfandes told him merrily, waving the bag in her teeth, just out of his reach.

Vanyel folded his arms. “You still need me to open the bag, remember?”

Savil elbowed him out of the way. “Give it to me, Yfandes. I’ll take care of you much better than this rude boy of yours.” His Companion let go of the bag so Savil could open it. “I don’t know how you manage to put up with him,” she added, handing over the coveted treat. 

_:Tell her I don’t know how I manage, either,:_ Yfandes told him as she munched.

Vanyel turned to his aunt, looking smug. “She says I’m a perfect Herald and she cannot live without me.” 

_:That’s not what I said!:_

The sudden icy _splat_ on Vanyel’s head interrupted his next retort. Kellan had dropped a mouthful of snow on him, clearly acting on Yfandes’ behalf. 

“That’s it!” Vanyel said, reaching behind him to shake his Whites so that the snow sliding under his collar and freezing his skin would make its way back out at the bottom. Having shaken out as much as he could, he bent down and scooped up his own handful of snow. He hurled it at Kellen, who lightly sidestepped the missile, making a noise suspiciously like laughter as she did so. 

The fight was on, Savil and Kellan doing their best to lob, kick, drop or otherwise send snow flying at Vanyel and Yfandes, who gave as good as they got. When Savil bent to scoop up more snow, Yfandes knocked her bulk against Savil’s exposed backside, toppling her face-first into a large drift. When she recovered and threw a revenge snowball, Vanyel tried to dodge out of the way – only to blunder straight into a shower of snow back-kicked by Kellan. 

Eventually, however, Vanyel, hands on his knees and breathing heavily, waved for a truce, and the four of them made their way to the Companions’ stables, so that Yfandes and Kellan could get a good rubdown and a warm blanket before their muscles could get chilled. Vanyel presented Yfandes with her new curry brush, then immediately put it to good use to get clinging snow off her coat, immensely gratified by Yfandes’ blissful praise. 

Evening was swiftly falling by the time he and Savil made their way to their rooms. The warmth of activity had long since vanished by then, and Vanyel found himself making nearly the same blissful exclamations as his Companion as he eased himself into a hot bath. 

_:I know you promised to have dinner brought up to your rooms, but I’m not sure I’ll have the energy to make it back to my own afterwards:_ he cautioned his aunt, the hot water making him feel nearly boneless. _:To be honest, it’s going to be difficult not to fall asleep with my face in the main course.:_

_:If you’re not careful, I might have one of Randale’s court artists brought up to paint your picture that way,:_ Savil replied, her Mindspeech tinged with mental “laughter.” _:But, seriously, Van, you’re more than welcome to stay the night, you know that. I’m not teaching a pile of younglings anymore, so I still have the one spare bedroom in my suite, which you’re welcome to use.:_

_:I might take you up on that,:_ he said, as he dunked his head briefly under the water to rinse soap out of his hair. _:I’ll be over soon.:_

_:Don’t feel you have to rush.:_

_:It’s not rushing,:_ Vanyel assured her, finishing the rest of his ablutions. _:It’s just that if I don’t get out of this water soon, I might not get out until morning.:_

* * * * *

“Now that was my idea of a perfect Midwinter meal,” Vanyel said some time later, setting his empty plate aside. Savil had had two plates of roasted squab with root vegetables waiting for him, followed by miniature apple tarts and some of Savil’s favorite wine from Valdemar’s more temperate southwest region. “A step up from the usual fare, without being pretentious.”

“You mean like the excessive meal Withen would have served?”

Vanyel chuckled ruefully. “Something like that.” He leaned back against Savil’s knees, where he’d been seated since the moment he’d come to her rooms. Just the two of them, their plates informally balanced on their laps as they ate, with her providing all the support and comfort she had shown him from the moment he’d been Chosen. She wasn’t traditionally motherly, but that was all right by Vanyel. Savil _understood_ him, far more than his parents ever had. She was blunt but not unkind, honest when he needed it, and a solid presence when he needed _that_. Yfandes would always have all his love and trust, and Lisse his admiration, but Savil was special in ways he couldn’t begin to articulate. 

“Thank you, by the way,” he added, fiddling a little with the stem of his wineglass.

“For what?” 

Vanyel set his glass down and shifted slightly sideways, tipping his head so it rested against her leg. “For dragging me out and making sure I didn’t spend Midwinter alone.”

She carded her fingers through his hair. “It was Yfandes who told Kellan she was concerned about how lonely you’d sounded the other day.” Savil sighed above him. “You’ve always held yourself so alone, Vanyel, both before and after you met ‘Lendel. It doesn’t always have to be that way, you know.”

“I’m always traveling, always doing dangerous things. It’s not conducive to forming a relationship, Savil. You’re a Herald – you know that.”

“I do,” she acknowledged. “But there’s a difference between being too busy as a Herald – or even as a Herald-Mage – to find time for a partner, and closing oneself off from even the _possibility_ of connecting with someone.”

He buried his face in her knees, letting his dark hair fall in a shielding curtain around him. “’Lendel just hurt too much,” he admitted, his heart contracting with the memories. “Even after seven years, it still hurts. I don’t think I could go through it again.”

Savil sighed again. “You must do as you see fit, of course, but just … _try_ to keep an open heart and mind? Or at least remember that you’ve got plenty of friendly faces among the Heralds. Don’t hide yourself away, Van.” She stroked his hair again, then withdrew her hand. “That’s what I most wanted you to get out of today – the reminder that even without a partner, you can still enjoy life.”

“Yes, I see you attending so many parties, I don’t know how you fit them all into your schedule,” Vanyel replied, the teasing comment bubbling out of him, despite his melancholy.

“Show a little respect for your elders, lad,” Savil retorted, lightly cuffing him on the side of his head. With a wry smile he withdrew his face from her knees and looked up into her well-lined, well-loved face as she added, “It’s possible – just perhaps – that your aunt has learned a few things from experience over her long and fruitful life. You might consider listening to her vast trove of wisdom.”

Memory stirred. “Moondance’s, too.”

“Hmmm?” 

Vanyel turned back to his original position, with his spine against her legs. “The first time you took me to K’Treva, you know, after…” He swallowed. “…after I was Chosen.”

Savil waited in silence while he collected himself, her fingers gently stroking through his hair again.

“He said that just because the great love was gone I shouldn’t still find comfort in little loves. Something like, just because I couldn’t sit at a palace fire anymore didn’t mean I couldn’t still enjoy a warm cottage hearth.” He tipped his head back a little to look at her, upside down. “In other words, exactly what you and ‘Fandes have been telling me.”

“Hmph,” was all Savil said, but Vanyel could tell she was pleased. 

“This whole day – the food and the market and the snowball fight with ‘Fandes and Kellen, the quiet dinner here – it means a lot.” He swallowed. “I can’t promise not to wallow in loneliness and self-pity again –“

Savil snorted. 

A corner of Vanyel’s mouth tipped into a wry smile. “–because, as you so succinctly just put it, I probably will,” he concluded. “Possibly by tomorrow. _However,_ ” he quickly added, before Savil could snort again, “I’ll do my best to remember this day, and your and Moondance’s words the next time I feel alone.” 

“That’s pretty much how we all spend our lives, you know – fall off the saddle, get back up and try again.” After a pause and a sigh, Savil nudged him with her knee. “Come on, lad. Get up. It’s time we both went to bed.”

Vanyel dutifully hauled himself to his feet, groaning a little as he did so. He was still young enough, he knew, but all the difficult missions had left him feeling permanently worn, and sitting on his aunt’s hard floor hadn’t done him any favors. 

With a groan of her own, Savil pushed herself to her feet with the help of the armrests and drained the last of her wine before setting the empty goblet back on a nearby side table. “Goodnight, Vanyel,” she said as she headed toward her bed.

“’N-Night,” Vanyel yawned, fatigue truly settling in as he shuffled towards the guest room that awaited him.

 _:I’m glad you had a good day, Vanyel,:_ Yfandes, piped in as Vanyel undressed and all but collapsed onto the soft bed. _:I hope you didn’t mind my interfering a little.:_

He had just enough energy left to pull up the covers and roll to his side, settling into the pillows. _:It was great, ‘Fandes, truly the best gift you could have given me.:_ He yawned again, mental speech blurring with tiredness. _:Happy Midwinter:_

_:Happy Midwinter to you, too, dearheart.:_

**Author's Note:**

> Please gift the author with a Midwinter review! (Or, you know, whatever season it happens to be where you are.) I do love to hear from my readers. Concrit is fine, too - just be polite. :-)


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